


Paper Blooms

by Slow_Spinning_Redemption



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: AU Fic, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Dani the barista, F/F, Jamie the florist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Spinning_Redemption/pseuds/Slow_Spinning_Redemption
Summary: Dani works at a coffee house. Jamie has a flower shop right beside it.Gay panic and pining ensues.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 18
Kudos: 224





	Paper Blooms

**Author's Note:**

> *apologizing for the awful summary*
> 
> Enjoy!

That was the third order you’d had gotten wrong in half an hour. You huffed a breath in frustration, grabbing the jasmine bouquet exasperated and putting it far away from your side of the counter, over to where Owen’s display of pastries was located. Owen shot you an amused look as you set the vase down with more force than needed.

If you were honest it wasn’t the intoxicating scent of the freshly cut jasmines that distracted you, but rather the person that brought them in.

The first time Jamie had entered the coffee house, you had just started working there as a barista. You knew nothing of the girl other than she smelled like fresh air and flower stems. But your list of Jamie observations grew every day. The way loose brown curls fell on her shoulders; her lopsided smirk; eyes kind, but guarder exterior. Heck, she had outwardly ignored you the first time you saw her. But you got used to her daily visits early in the morning on her way to open up her flower shop and then during her launch break. You also knew very well that a large percentage of your clientele, consisting of students coming from the nearby campus, gathered on your coffee shop because of her, trying to get her attention with lame questions about flowers.

Jamie despised jocks, but had a way of looking at women coupling it with suggestive smirks and carefully placed touches. It was a bit sad really, the rehashed flirting tricks they bombarded her with and the hundredth time the question over which flower was the best to ask someone out was uttered. But Jamie was always polite and eloquent in her answers. Even though she’d never actually asked out any girl of the hordes that approached her.

And even if she did, it certainly would not be you. Jamie seemed intent on avoiding eye contact longer than it took her to tease you about yesterday’s tea and then proceed to order the exact same “hideous desecration of a tea”.

Fair’s fair, you know you aren’t much. In all your 5.3 feet glory, usually clad in corduroy skirts and colourful sweaters along with a bad habit of reading too much into things.

Case in point, when Jamie entered the coffee house today carrying the carefully made bouquet. She actually looked you in the eyes the whole way from the door to the counter, a rare smile on her lips, one you had never seen her give to any of the girls.

“Yesterday’s knock-off of a brew was actually not terrible Poppins,” she muttered in her usual playful tone, the nickname easily rolling off her tongue. “It still had a criminal amount of sugar in it. I’m positive you’ll give me diabetes soon, so I thought to bring those fragrant buds in hopes of preventing that.”

You later imagine yourself standing there like a fish, mouth agape and eyes big and shiny. Coming back to your senses you straighten and smile at her, watch as her grin widens.

“Flattery will get you anywhere.”  
  
///  
  
You make it your mission to perfect your tea making techniques. Jamie never ran out of witty remarks and, even if it was on your expense, you loved to hear how you had insulted the whole nation of jolly old England with your tea this time. The coffee house never ran out of beautiful flower bouquets, dotted with poppies or dandelions for a splash of color.

“I need to run them by before putting them up for sale. You’re my head of quality control Poppins” Jamie’s go to answer whenever questioned.

You realize at some point the back and forth glances, the steaming tea cup and the flower bouquet, the chit chat, the blushing and the shy smiles have become the highlight of your day. This ritual of yours and Jamie’s of exchanging fresh flowers for awful tea every morning.

You try, unsuccessfully, not to think too much about it.  
  
///  
  
For all her smooth talk and mastery over the art of seduction, Jamie never gave away flowers to a girl. Ever. It was hard not to let it get to your head, the fact that your coffee house was graced with the beauty of custom made assortments every day.  
  
You hadn’t thought too much about it, but you absentmindedly stumbled on an article about floriography one night. You’re positive you felt cogs click together inside your brain. It became another addition to your routine, checking out the symbolism of the flowers she used each day.  
  
Are you reading too much into this? You probably are, but you can’t help yourself. Jamie’s tea always contains a spoonful of sugar, just to make sure the jokes and the flowers never cease to come.  
  
A week into the deliverance of the blooms you got your answer. You had gotten pretty good at handling many orders at once during busy mornings, but a rude costumer to your right, a screaming child somewhere in the crowd and a return order to your left had you on edge. Jamie sauntered in, overalls and baggy shirt today. You lost the way her eyes tracked your movements as you shoved the tea in her general direction, stressed and trying to catch up. You missed her running to her shop in a hurry. Only once rush hour was done, did you notice the hastily put together lavenders and chamomiles, laced in simple twine. That night, your laptop screen was shining on your face as you read about them; _Relaxation. Calmness.  
  
_You start the next day with a warm cup of chamomile. You think of giving one to Jamie too instead of her regular tea. But Jamie doesn’t come to the coffee shop that morning.  
  
You keep looking at the clock and the tea bags you have arranged to be easily accessible to you. You fiddle with the straws and clean the counter a little too many times. Owen side eyes you the whole time.  
  
“I got everything covered here you know.” He says not meeting your eyes. You both know what he’s referring to, but you’re grateful for his casual way. You all but jump over the counter and five seconds later you’re out. On your way to Jamie’s it occurs to you that you’ve never actually been to her shop. Why would you? She brings you all the flowers you need herself.  
  
You can’t see her anywhere inside. In your rush you don’t have the time to check the arrays of carefully arranged flowers, your eyes instead fixing on an open back door behind the counter through which a rose garden is visible.  
  
Quick steps take you through the shop and out the door, but you stop dead in your tracks at the sight you’re met with. Jamie is on her knees, shoulders slump, caked dirt on her hair, green residue on her jeans and shoes. She’s grasping a broken rose. Countless petals surround her and haphazardly cut stems climb the fence built specifically for the now destroyed plant.   
  
Jamie was seething. “Little shits…” you hear her mutter through gritted teeth.  
  
You barely have the time to catch her arm as she rises, voice roaring.  
  
“Little fucking shits!”  
  
“Hey, it’s just a few flowers. Some kids probably did this.”  
  
Wrong thing to say. Jamie’s eyes narrow, indignant.  
  
“Just a… Sure, so it’s fine then, innit?”  
  
“Some kids cut a few flowers, what’s the big deal?”  
  
“They weren’t ready to be cut!”  
  
You have never heard her raise her voice. She’s in your space now. Eyes furious, nostrils flaring, dirt on her cheek. You’re thinking of reaching your hand and brushing it off. Instead, you hold your ground. And her eyes.  
  
Finally she releases a breath. Sighs, hand on her hips.  
  
“See, I told you all your yank sugar will get to my head.”  
  
You’re delighted to see the small smile. Jogging back to the shop, you come back stumbling over your feet trying to balance a broom and dustpan in one hand, a cup of chamomile and a giant chocolate cake piece in the other.  
  
“You really care none for my health, do you Poppins?”  
  
Later, chocolate cake crumbs lying on the counter and the dustbin overflowing with rose petals, you do wipe that dirt off her face.  
  
///  
  
The next day, Owen’s hearty laugh greets you in the early morning as you stride in the coffee house a large paper bag dangling from your left hand. It must be a pretty comical sighting, you think, a tiny girl hugged in her woolen navy coat, a needlessly long scarf hiding most of her face and the brown paper bag taking up almost half of her frame. You carefully avoid Owen’s inquiries about the contents of the bag and he, ever the considerate one, doesn’t push it. He and Jamie are none the wiser as the bag lies forgotten in the back of the coffee house for most of the morning.  
  
Jamie had brought in a delicate assortment of trollius and bellflowers today refusing to leave them on the counter and handing them directly to you. Her eyes catch yours as she’s sipping her tea and she makes a disgusted face. Your fingers fly over your phone screen and the corners of your lips turn up, eyes wide as the word _gratitude_ stares back at you.  
  
Lunchtime approaches and the paper bag’s imaginary eyes are burning holes in your back. It’s not a big deal. It really isn’t. You’ll just go in, casually give the paper bag to Jamie and get the hell out to return to the safety of your little counter in your little coffee house.  
  
After talking yourself out of it and then in again a couple of times, 5 but who’s counting, you grasp at the blasted paper bag and head to the flower shop on wobbly legs. Your nails dig crescent marks on your palm.  
  
The bell at her door chimes as you open it. Spotting you entering the shop, a warm smile forms on her lips. She lets go of the fern she’d been tending to and heads towards you. Your throat clogs.  
  
“Whatcha got there Poppins?”  
  
No backing down now Clayton.  
  
“Well, it took a long time to clean up the mess of roses in your backyard yesterday and I am thinking it will take a long time to get it back to where it was and till then... I just figured…”  
  
Words you can’t find fly around and the paper bag’s there, suspended between the two of you, dangling from your outstretched hand. You note, as an afterthought, that you’re not trembling anymore. One raised eyebrow, Jamie reaches her hand and takes the paper bag. You wish your fingers brushed for a little longer.  
  
Carefully the staple that’s holding the bag closed is torn away. You watch as Jamie’s eyes go from curiosity to disbelief and then, softly, to awe. Her hand goes in and when it emerges, she’s holding roses of all sizes and colors and they rain from her fingers back where they came from. Origami roses. Dozens of them. As many as you could make before your cramped fingers begged you to go to sleep.  
  
Jamie finally lifts her eyes and there’s a question in there, but also appreciation. And perhaps vulnerability? Something that doesn’t receive such things. Not usually. She’s still holding the bag in one hand and some paper blooms in the other and you see her fingers caressing the fake petals. Her mouth hangs open as she silently asks you. Begs of you, really.  
  
“I had a bunch of paper sheets, of all colors as you can see, and some wire I used for the stems. But the stems took a long time and I mainly wanted to give you roses. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that someone destroyed yours and that must have hurt because you sure poured a lot into that plant and it sucks that they did that. And these are fake and there probably aren’t neon orange or turquoise roses, but I had paper…” you trail off and your hands start gesturing wildly, because Jamie hasn’t talked yet.  
  
“…and these have no scent obviously, but at least they’ll never wither.”  
  
Thankfully, your mouth finally closes and you’re both standing there facing each other. Jamie keeps looking at you like that, like you just gave her something precious, something important. You feel helpless under that gaze.  
  
“Dani…”  
  
She reconsiders and instead of saying anything else the hand that held the roses shoots forward and grasps yours, the blooms falling down and settling around you both. You stand very still, as Jamie’s hand, calloused but warm and soft, holds yours tightly. Her thumb makes a trail on the back of your palm and you feel courageous, your own fingers clinging to hers.  
  
Then it’s gone and Jamie bends down to pick the fallen roses as you try to gulp down a throat that’s dry, too dry.  
  
You feel her watching you and your eyes find hers again. An easy smile has settled on her lips and she seems light, comfortable. The smile widens a bit when your eyes meet.  
  
“Who the hell knew?”  
  
You leave, feeling alive and buzzing, cheeks burning.  
  
///  
  
You two continued the routine you had established. Trading tea cups for flowers. But Jamie stayed for longer each time now. Sometimes you’d spark entire conversations together, tea running cold and you having an excuse to make it again making her stay even longer. On the best days, she’d lean on her elbows over the counter looking at you because “You’re cute when you blush Poppins.” And then there were the flowers. The first week, you thought it was accidental. But it continued. Words like _admiration, anticipation, beauty_ looked back at you from your screen as the days went by. The coffee shop filled to the brim with Jamie’s creations.  
  
Was she flirting with you?  
  
Some more daring words later ( _admiration, courage and desire)_ you felt pretty sure about it. It took another couple of weeks for you to pluck up the courage to ask her out. But the day it was supposed to happen you had built it up to such gianormous proportions in your head that the moment Jamie stepped in, you were hyperventilating. Three ruined cups of tea later, Jamie, Owen and a couple of your customers were fussing over you as you tried to reassure them through uneven breaths and clammy hands.  
  
Right. So that went well.  
  
The coffee house seemed to buzz every time Jamie stepped inside. The hot beverages you brewed burned your palms, the supposedly soothing flower scent invading the air you breathed and suddenly everything seemed dirty and out of place on your counter, your hands itching for some excuse to keep moving. It didn’t help that Jamie’s eyes followed you with amusement coupled with a mischievous smirk.  
  
“Poppins, have you run out of chamomile? I think you could use one.” you hear her quip.  
  
“Don’t you have a shop to run? You know ferns to tend to, flowers to water with your deep inconsolable tears?” you finally shoot back, returning her teasing look, a steaming tea cup placed in front of her.  
  
“You’re denying an addict their daily sugar intake Poppins?” she says as she leans over the counter, towards you. “Tread lightly. Could be dangerous.”  
  
Your noses are almost touching at this point, hot steam from the tea warming your chest. Or something else maybe.  
  
“Besides,” she continues, grabbing her tea and walking away “you’re responsible for my getting hooked, are you not?”  
  
She saunters out of the shop, but not before throwing a wink at your direction.  
  
You’re done for.  
  
///  
  
Today Jamie has a large deliverance to make early in the morning. She all but dashes inside the coffee house, half wrapped scarf around her neck, curls wild, grabs the tea and bolts out. The fact that there was barely any interaction between you, gave you the courage that you lacked. Later that morning, you wrap a couple of homemade chocolate chip cookies and head towards the flower shop.  
  
You initially don’t see her inside and the truth of what’s about to happen, what you want to happen, dawns on you. Panic flares up and you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. But then a large glass bowl right by the cash register catches your eye. It’s overflowing with the paper roses. Others are strung high on the walls in improvised vines.  
  
“There you are Poppins!” her voice startles you.  
  
Now you feel like a deer caught in the headlights.  
  
“I’m starving. Morning was crazy, I haven’t even had time for breakfast.”  
  
You hold out the paper package overflowing with cookies. “You’re not supposed to drink anything on an empty stomach.” you blurt out, referring to the tea she took earlier.  
  
Smooth.  
  
She turns to you and notices the package. At the smell of fresh chocolate she closes her eyes and inhales deeply.  
  
“Good thing I have you then.”  
  
Ripping the package open, she plops a whole cookie in her mouth, a moan escaping her lips. You gulp, not audibly you hope.  
  
She produces a flower from behind her back. One single iris.  
  
An iris. You remember. You’ve gone through so many floriography lists during sleepless nights.  
  
Iris.  
  
_Hope.  
  
_You take the flower gratefully and it earns you an honest smile.  
  
A moment of courage. Your fingers cling to the stem of the iris.  
  
“Can I actually have a request for a flower?”  
  
“Of course. How can I help?” she asks earnestly, eyes perking up.  
  
“I need a moment of courage.” You say and she waits for you to finish. “I want to…ask someone out, you see.”  
  
You think you see her eyebrows shooting up, just slightly, but you might be wrong.  
  
“I’m afraid no flower can help you in that case Poppins.” She buries her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “My advice is to be as nervous and awkward as possible, because you’re gonna be so anyway so why not make it part of the plan?”  
  
Your knees turn to jelly.  
  
“So should I just go for it?” The room grew uncomfortably hot around you. How is the iris stem not broken yet you wonder.  
  
She gives you a curt nod.  
  
Oh. She doesn’t know.  
  
She moves to turn her back on you.  
  
One second of courage.  
  
“Jamie!”  
  
She turns to face you again, surprised.  
  
Your eyes meet.  
  
“Would you… would you go on a date with me?”  
  
Your feet are fixed in place, your stomach one giant knot, your hands fused with the iris stem.  
  
And there she stands and was she always so beautiful? Rebel locks obstruct her hesitant eyes, her mouth parted, her hands suspended and she breaths heavily. There it is again. The vulnerable side. The one that didn’t expect to hear that from you. The one that didn’t dare hope to hear that from you.  
  
Should you run? Should you go work somewhere else? Should you move to a whole different town?  
  
But before you could come to a decision, Jamie is standing in front of you. She’s still unsure. Still a little afraid.  
  
So you smile at her.  
  
She smiles back at you.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
It took everything in you not to either collapse or squeal in excitement. But Jamie is one step ahead. Before you understand what’s happening, cool hands are enclosing your face. One settles on your neck. You feel the thumb of the other settling on your jaw and your earlobe trapped between her index and another finger. Feather light caresses fall on your skin.  
  
Jamie’s eyes start to close and she moves to lean in. You shut your eyes tightly.  
  
“Ihaveneverkissedanyone!”  
  
You slowly open your eyes and you see she is now looking at you, half questioningly, half amused.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
She waits patiently and you sigh. She’s still holding your face softly.  
  
“I. Have never. Kissed. Anyone.”  
  
You lower your eyes, but her hands don’t leave.  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
You can’t bring yourself to look at her so you just give her a nod.

Soft hands let go of your face and you feel cold. Your heart deflates.  
  
“Well then, in that case, a simple date won’t do.”  
  
Your eyes are still down, defeated, and at the top of your visual field you see curly locks. She’s bending down trying to catch your gaze. You raise your face, meeting her halfway.  
  
You’re looking at each other now and her eyes are soft as they’re looking at you, a serene, calm smile on her lips. You find yourself taking in the defined features of her face. You’d love to run a finger down the bridge of her nose, trail her jaw line with your lips and comb her hair with your fingers. She beats you to it though, taking your hands in her own.  
  
“It won’t?”  
  
“Oh, no. It should be as special as the kiss to which it’ll lead to. No simple date. Three or four dates worth in just one night.” She says and your stomach does a somersault. “So, I’ll take you out to see the sights of the city.” She tugs at your hands and you start walking through the shop. “I’ll have to figure out something other than flowers to give you when I see you.” She continues and you’re now passing in front of an impressive array of roses. Their scent reminds you of Jamie. “We’ll then take a walk. Talk about this and that. Get annoyed at the little kids, but the impressive sunset will make up for it. Once we’re tired, we’ll sit for a while. I’ll take you to a fancy restaurant for dinner. Or just burgers and fries if you prefer that.”  
  
You definitely weren’t breathing anymore.  
  
“And we’ll see where this all takes us, but if it’s anywhere near where I want it to be,” Jamie’s voice dipped low and she slid her hands all the way to your elbows, so your palms settle on her waist “finally Dani. I’ll finally have the courage to kiss you.”  
  
You connect your hands at the small of her back.  
  
“Why should you have the chance to gather up enough courage?”  
  
Jamie was all smiles. “Did you have something in mind?”  
  
She tilts her head sideways and you’re inching closer. You’re breathing the same air now.  
  
A whisper. Another second of courage.  
  
“Why wait?”  
  
Jamie smiles, pulls you in and she’s touching your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips with hers.  
  
And at the end of your ‘three or four dates worth of’ date you kiss her too.

**Author's Note:**

> Like Rose Dix said, in her infinite wisdom, we were given "the lesbian love story of the century".  
> I NEEDED to write something about them. Like really wanted to. But I'm no writer. So hopefully this didn't suck too much.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
